Officer Down
by EquestrianCSI
Summary: Danny is hurt while processing a crime scene. Now the CSI NY team is waiting for good news. Will Danny survive? LAST Chapter Finished finally!
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, nor have I, nor will I ever, have any ties to CSI or any of its spinoffs. This is purely my fan-fic. **

**Crime Scene**

The congested New York City traffic was nearly at a stand-still, with the usual clog of morning commuters honking impatiently. Lindsey sighed as she waited patiently for the traffic jam to start moving. Jerked from a deep sleep by the ringing of her cell phone on her bedside table, Lindsey was on her way to the scene of a triple homicide. She would meet her partner, Danny Messer at the scene, and she guessed with the traffic jam that she was going to be late. Picking up her cell phone, she hit the speed dial, intending to inform him of the reason for her tardiness. Once again, she mentally compared the busy highway with the relatively empty roads in her rural Montana hometown. It had taken some getting used to the idea of having to leave a half hour earlier in the mornings in New York to get to her destination. She had grown up in a town where it took less than fifteen minutes to drive from one end of town to the other. New York was on the opposite end of the spectrum as far as driving was concerned.

Finally, the traffic began to move; slowly at first, but picking up speed as it moved past a rather large wreck in near the overpass. Police officers worked the scene and as she passed, Lindsey shook her head at the sight of four vehicles, three of them with crushed front ends, blocking the right hand lane. Someone had entered the freeway and slowed too much, causing a multiple chain reaction of rear-enders. Thankful that she wasn't one of the unlucky commuters involved, Lindsey picked up speed as she moved past and made her way toward the exit that would eventually lead to the upper-middle-class neighbourhood where the crime scene was located.

On the third ring, Danny picked up and she quickly rattled off her location, promising to be there as quickly as she could. Hanging up, she turned onto a quaint tree-lined street and spotted several police cars and Danny's vehicle parked near a modest two-story home. Parking, she grabbed her field kit and got out, hurrying up the sidewalk and flashing her CSI identification to the portly officer guarding the home's drive. Entering, she walked briskly down the hall toward the master bedroom and found her partner crouched over the bloodied male victim.

"Hey," Danny grinned up at her, his eyes warm.

"Glad you could make it, Montana. We've got a real ugly one here." He gestured to the bathroom, and Lindsey peered inside.

The bathroom walls were covered in blood spatter, and the body of a half-dressed female lay on the floor in front of the sink, blood pooling around her head from a shotgun wound.

"The female was apparently gunned down right where she stood," Danny called from the bedroom, "she probably didn't have a chance."

"What about your male vic," Lindsey asked, pulling on a pair of latex gloves.

"Hard to say; looks like he might have met the intruder when he came in to see what the ruckus was," Danny responded.

Squatting, Lindsey looked over the female victim. The woman's head had been obliterated by the shotgun, and what was left of her brain stem was visible from the ragged wound in the neck.

"Looks like she was shot in the neck from behind," Lindsey commented, and pulled her digital camera out, snapping off a few shots before standing to take a closer picture of the blood-spatter that covered the mirror.

"Third victim's upstairs," Danny informed her conversationally, "he was apparently shot in his sleep."

Lindsey stepped out of the bathroom, watching her partner swab the blood that had pooled beneath the male victim. Glancing toward the door, Lindsey looked back at Danny.

"Have you gone up there yet?" she asked, and he shook his head.

"He ain't going anywhere," he commented, his brogue thick.

A second police officer, who Lindsey had seen outside, walked into the bedroom, and spoke in a low voice.

"The scene's secured. Are you two okay here?" he asked, and Danny nodded.

"Yeah; you can have your boys go home, Captain; we've got it," he said, and the captain nodded.

"I'll leave Stevens outside to deter any thrill seekers," the older man said, and walked out of the room.

Danny sighed, and stood up, rubbing the aching muscles in the back of his neck.

"Let's go up and check out that third victim," he said, and added, "we can come back here after we know what it looks like upstairs.

Grabbing her case, Lindsey followed Danny back through the tiled entry and up the beige-carpeted stairs.

The landing on the second floor was dark thanks to the lack of windows. Each bedroom door was shut, save one, which stood ajar. A pale shaft of light filtered through the opening, and Danny slowly pushed it open. The scene in this bedroom was almost peaceful; football posters were taped to the walls, and basketball trophies lined a small shelf above a computer desk. A framed photo of a blonde haired boy dressed in a tux and a dark-headed, petite girl in a sparkling prom dress sat on the bedside table. Blood was spattered across the picture's glass, evidence of the gun-shot that ended the boy's life.

In the bed, the teen lay still and cold, blood saturating his white pillow and bed sheets.

"What a waste," Danny muttered, and raised his camera for a picture.

The flash illuminated the dim room for half a second, and Danny took several more pictures before turning to Lindsey.

"Going to be a long day," he commented, and Lindsey silently agreed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Officer Down**

It was nearly one o'clock when Danny looked up from dusting the boy's bedroom door for prints. Lindsey was busy working on the opposite side of the room, pulling hair and fiber samples from the bed.

"Hey, Montana; you hungry?" Danny asked, and Lindsey nodded, feeling her stomach rumbling with hunger.

"I'll go get some hot dogs, and we can keep right on working if you want," Danny offered, and Lindsey nodded, reaching into her pocket for a few dollars to hand to her partner.

"No, I'm buying," Danny said gruffly, and headed down stairs before Lindsey could open her mouth to protest.

Returning to her work, Lindsey had no sooner plucked a hair from the teen's bloodied pajama top when she heard a commotion in the hall, and Danny's startled expletive. A gun shot exploded, and Lindsey could hear someone fall to the floor. Dropping the evidence bag on the bed, Lindsey sprinted for the hall, just in time to see a man racing down the stairs and out of sight. Danny lay at the top of the stairs, his weapon a few inches from his hand, and his body still.

"Oh my God," Lindsey breathed, her mind reeling with shock at the surprise ambush.

Drawing her own weapon, she looked around for signs of any other intruders before squatting down beside her partner. Carefully, she grasped his shoulders, rolling him over onto his back. For a moment, she wasn't sure he was even alive, but then his eyes opened, and he looked into her face.

"I think I've been shot," he said matter-of-factly, and Lindsey saw a dark stain of blood begin to appear on the crisp, pale blue linen shirt he was wearing.

"Be still," Lindsey commanded, her voice shaking with shock and fear.

Where was the intruder? Had he left the house, or was he lurking somewhere downstairs, ready to pounce again? The police officers had long since gone, leaving the CSIs to finish processing the scene. Danny gasped, his face contorted in pain.

"Do something," he hissed through clenched teeth, the muscles in his jaw standing out in ridges under his skin.

Lindsey's mouth felt dry as she fumbled with her cell phone and punched in the numbers to emergency response. Danny's breathing was becoming laboured, and the stain on his shirt spreading out in a circular pattern over his chest. Pressing her hand against his chest in an attempt to keep him from loosing anymore blood, Lindsey heard the operator come on the line.

"Officer down," Lindsey's voice was shaking as she described her emergency.

Danny's eyes were fixed on her face, and she noticed that he'd placed a hand over hers covering his wound. He surprised her by squeezing her fingers in his, his grip strong even though he was fighting for his life.

"Don't leave me Montana; I can't do this alone," he whispered weakly, and Lindsey shook her head, giving their location to the dispatcher before disconnecting from the call.

"Danny, don't talk," Lindsey chastised, and noticed with alarm that his eyes were starting to roll upward toward the ceiling.

"Hey," she called to him, slapping gently at his cheek with her free hand.

The warm blood seeping beneath her hand seemed to drench her flesh, and Lindsey pressed harder, desperate to staunch the flow from Danny's chest. His gaze flicked to her face for a brief fraction of a second, and his mouth moved with barely discernable words. Leaning closer, Lindsey strained to hear him over the sound of her heart pounding in her head.

"Promise me you won't forget," he finished painfully, before his eyes rolled completely back and his grip on her fingers relaxed.

Lindsey's breath caught in her throat, and she felt as if an icy hand were gripping her heart as she again patted her partner's sweat-damp cheek. Getting no response, not even a flicker of an eyelash, Lindsey shook his shoulder in hopes of rousing him. Danny's hand flopped from hers, landing on his chest before sliding to the floor. His body was completely limp, and his chest still.

"Danny!" Lindsey screamed, panic and fear in her voice.

"Don't you do this Danny," she choked, her words coming on a sob.

"Don't you dare die on me; do you hear me?" Lindsey pled desperately with her partner; hoping for a response.

Yet Danny lay still, his blood continuing to escape from his body and pool around Lindsey's fingers.

"No!" she screamed in terror, "no, no, no!" Her fingers grasped at the fabric of his shirt as if trying to pull Danny back from the brink of death.

As tears blurred her vision, Lindsey didn't hear Mac and Stella ascending the stairs behind her. All she could think of was Danny's habit of calling her 'Montana', and how she wished she could hear him say it again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Waiting**

It was early evening by the time Sheldon Hawkes and Stella entered the ICU waiting room at St. Augustine's Memorial Hospital. In the wake of Danny's shooting, Mac had ordered the two CSIs to finish processing the crime scene Lindsey and Danny had started.

The waiting room was surprisingly quiet; only Mac Taylor, Lindsey Monroe and Donald Flack were seated in the fabric-covered chairs clustered in a semi-circle in the far corner. The wall-mounted TV was muted, and Meredith Viera soundlessly congratulated a contestant who correctly answered a question about Washington Irving. Stella took a seat next to Mac.

"How is he," she asked, her gaze flicking to Lindsey, who sat huddled in a chair closest to the picture window.

"He's stable," Mac replied, shrugging and shifting in his seat,

"But he's not regained consciousness; that could take a while longer." He was watching Lindsey's reaction to his words.

She seemed to be trying to hide inside her windbreaker, pulling the collar up against her cheek as she stared out the window at the grey autumn skies above. Stella and Mac exchanged looks before Stella stood, crossed over to Lindsey, and sat down in the chair next to her. Carefully, Stella put a hand on the other woman's shoulder.

"You okay?" she asked, and Lindsey nodded, fiercely swiping at the tears that were drifting down her cheeks.

"He's going to be okay Lindsey," she said, and Lindsey sighed, her chin quivering.

Stella echoed her sigh, placing a comforting arm around the younger woman's shoulders.

"Danny's a tough kid; no matter what it is, he always seems to be able to pull out of a bad situation."

Lindsey turned to look at Stella, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"He kept asking me to do something for him, but all I could do was try to keep the bleeding down, and call for help." She said, and Mac spread his hands apart in a gesture of helplessness.

"But you did the right thing, Lindsey. What happened was a bad deal, but second-guessing yourself won't help him." Stella hugged Lindsey briefly and then smiled.

"Danny wouldn't want you to second-guess," she said, her smile forced, but her eyes troubled.

Deep down, Stella was wondering if they'd be attending a funeral in the next few days. Surely Danny would be fine; yes, he had been shot in the chest, but they'd stablised him, loaded him up and raced him to the hospital in record time. Even the trauma team had said Danny was doing amazingly well for the amount of blood he'd lost. But Stella's heart was still heavy, fear and dread causing her to feel as though a black cloud had settled over her and was pushing her down with its weight.

Mac watched the two women and wished he had some words of wisdom to help them to feel better. He knew Stella was worried; she'd been uptight and agitated ever since they got the call that there was trouble at the crime scene Danny and Lindsey were working. Mac was the team leader in a way; he couldn't let them see just how worried he himself was about Danny. But now, as he listened to Stella's optimistic assurances, he wasn't so certain of Danny's future anymore.

"Detective Taylor?" A deep male voice broke into his thoughts.

"I'm Taylor," Mac responded, rising.

The doctor was in his fifties; with graying hair that was thinning around the temples, and unusually dark blue eyes.

"We've got your officer in a room. He's breathing on his own, and everything looks good." The doctor informed them.

"Is he going to be all right then?" Asked Hawkes, and the doctor nodded.

"He's still unconscious, but his vitals are normal and everything checks out fine." He said and looked around the room.

"You can go see him, but only one at a time, and no longer than ten minutes tops," the doctor instructed, and at everyone's agreement, left as quickly as he came.

Mac looked around the room at his colleagues.

"Who wants to go first?" he asked, and looked at Lindsey.

"Lindsey?" he asked, but she shook her head.  
"You first, sir," she said and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I won't be long," Mac replied, adding; "I'm sure there's others of us who would like to see him too." With that, Mac winked at Lindsey and walked away, leaving the others to stand quietly in the waiting area, thankful that their friend was still in the land of the living.

…..to be continued.


	4. Chapter 4

**Awaken**

The steady _beep, beep, beep_ of the monitors above Danny's head and his steady, even breathing were the only sounds in the small room where he lay still and pale on the bed. The grey morning sky was slowly lightening in the east, with pale pink and purple hues bathing downtown New York City in a palette of soft colour.

Lindsey sat in a chair pulled close to Danny's bedside, where she had kept constant watch all night long after Mac, Stella and the others left. Exhausted, she'd finally laid her head on the bedrail and fallen into a restless half-sleep. Now, she slowly opened her eyes sat up painfully, wincing as her stiff joints protested the movement. Her head hurt where it had rested against the unforgiving metal for so long, and her shoulder and neck ached from the crazy angle she was sitting in. Sitting upright, she pulled her windbreaker around her body and turned her head to look again at Danny. His face was relaxed in sleep, and a lock of hair fell over one eyebrow, giving him a boyish, playful appearance even in his state of unconsciousness. An IV line ran from a clear plastic bag on a pole beside the bed into his left forearm, and a large white bandage covered his chest where the surgeon had removed the .38 slug that had very nearly killed him. After surgery, Mac had taken the slug straight to the crime lab, where Stella would carefully examine the striations and hopefully make a match to a gun and suspect. Lindsey reached over and carefully brushed the hair away from Danny's eyes, wondering if he even knew she was there. Letting her fingers linger against his hair, she laid her other arm over the rail and propped her chin on top of it.

"Hey," she whispered conversationally, hoping maybe he could hear her,

"You can't sleep all day long, you know." She watched him sleep, listening to his every breath, and willing him to wake up.

Danny didn't move; didn't give any indication that he'd heard her at all. Lindsey was frustrated to realize that she was about to start crying again. Dammit, she'd cried so much the past twelve or so hours, she felt like she never would get ahold of herself. She knew a lot of it was exhaustion and stress, but most of it was fear that Danny wouldn't recover. When was she going to admit that her affection for him was turning into a lot more than a school-girl crush? They'd had some really fun dates together, and Lindsey wasn't ready for it to end; especially not this way.

"You know you've got to get well and get out of here," She began, trying to think of anything to say to Danny; anything he might hear at all.

Besides, she had to keep her mind off the idea that he still might not survive.

"We can't let those Giants tickets go to waste, and you still owe me that hot dog." Lindsey swallowed back the sob that was working its way up her throat.

She looked again at Danny, so still and quiet, and remembered the last thing he'd said to her the day before.

"_Promise me you won't forget." _

Lindsey frowned. What on earth had Danny meant by that? Was he telling her to remember their friendship? The few dates they had; what? Closing her eyes, Lindsey began talking again.

"Tell me what you meant yesterday," she asked, not expecting a response.

"I have to know what I'm promising not to forget," she added, and let her mind drift, her eyes still closed.

"How about Montana? Do you know you're the only one that will ever get away with calling me that?" Tears squeezed between her lashes and trailed down her cheek.

"Or, how about the Coleman stove and cocoa," Lindsey had been pleasantly surprised the night Danny had shown up at her apartment with hot chocolate mix and the camp stove.

"_It's not a fireplace but it's better than nothing,"_ he'd explained when she asked what he was thinking that night.

Unable to keep from crying again, and not wanting the morning nurse to see, Lindsey crossed her forearms on the bedrail and buried her face as she tried to get a hold of herself.

"Don't you leave me," she whispered, repeating his words from the day before.

Lindsey didn't notice Danny beginning to stir beside her. He could hear someone talking; their voice bringing him out of his heavy sleep. The sound of a monitor was sharp and annoying in his ears and his body hurt like hell. Slowly, almost experimentally, he opened his eyes. It took a moment for his surroundings to come into focus but when they did, he saw Lindsey sitting beside him, seemingly asleep against the bed. Danny grinned. Trust Montana to be there when he woke up. He remembered the shooting; remembered fearing he would die alone, and begging Lindsey not to leave him.

"You still sticking around, Montana?" he asked, his tongue dry as cotton fluff, and his voice weak.

Lindsey's head jerked up, and she looked at him in disbelief.

"Danny," she whispered, and he smiled a small smile.

"What time is it?" He asked, reaching up to rub his eyes with his right hand.

"Just barely six in the morning," she replied, and Danny frowned.

"How long you been here?" His throat was sore, and even swallowing was painful, but he was too curious not to ask.

"Since five last night," she replied, and sat up, stretching her back muscles and rubbing at her eyes.

"You been crying?" he asked, noticing Lindsey's tear-bright eyes.

At his query, her chin trembled, and she looked away, not wanting him to know. Danny frowned and grabbed hold of her hand that was dangling over the bed rail. Lindsey jumped, and turned to look at him.

"Its okay if you were," Danny stated matter of factly.

"You're not supposed to know," Lindsey whispered, and Danny grinned.

"Know what? That you kinda want me to stick around because we have fun together?" He asked, and Lindsey shrugged, embarrassed.

Even though he hurt like hell, and really wanted to go back to sleep, Danny released the lock on the bedrail, causing it to collapse, and Lindsey to look at him in confusion.

"You can't get up right now," she cautioned, and he shook his head.

"I'm not," he said, and held his arm up, ignoring the sore muscles in his shoulder and chest.

"I want you to come here," he said and motioned for her to lay her head against his chest.

Lindsey did as he bid, leaning again over the side of the bed to rest her head carefully above the top of the bandage. She could hear Danny's heart thumping steadily in her ear, and breathed a silent prayer of thanks that he was still alive. His arm was familiar and comfortable around her shoulders and she sighed heavily in relief that Danny was showing signs of recovering. He heard her sigh, and carefully brushed his hand over her hair.

"I'm glad you didn't leave me," he whispered, playing with the ends of her hair.

Lindsey grinned, feeling a hell of a lot better than she had a few moments earlier. Raising her head, she looked into Danny's warm brown eyes.

"Are you kidding?" She said playfully,

"You still owe me a hot dog."

Danny gave her a skeptical look before returning her smile.

"Get outta here," he said, snuggling her head back down against his chest.

In a few weeks, he'd be back on duty, and he couldn't wait to go to that Giant's game and share a hot dog with the nice girl from Montana.


End file.
